Sunday, August 9, 2009

Vegas is the Pits, Pt III

Desert Inn, east of Buffalo.

Previous, here and here.


Anonyfurst said...

Retention basins keep our sofa's from floating into Lake Mead.

Kill capture, let Mah Jung post!

Lavi D. said...

That's not a retention basin, it's a material pit. Hence the title of the post. But that's a great idea. I'll start shooting them, too.

Ma Jung. That's funny.

I'll turn off captcha in a few days after Ma has moved on.

Anonyfurst Humbled said...

Anonyfurst stands corrected.

This I believe is the pit for the large gravel operation on Spring Mountain just off Buffalo and east of Wallyworld. Wells Cargo?

I was thinking of the retention basin at DI and Rainbow.

Yet, a rose by any other name still smells as sweet and pricks fair maidens with it's thorn. And Vegas does have many fair maidens being pricked with thorns irregardless of the pricks fragrance.

If it rains, this gravel pit may keep my luxurious and sexually stained sofa from spreading disease and CSI incriminating dried bodily fluids into Lake Mead.

I defer to the gracious host as being correct.

Please release the chocolate sexual textor Mah Jung from the Fascist bounds of a capcha test for the fair maidens in search of being textual thorned by pricks.

Thank you.

Troy in Las Vegas said...

What the fuck are they gonna do with this big hole?

Rock Candy said...

I think it suits Vegas....The shallowness, the deep pit of despair...

I wonder how many of these dig sites result in the recovery of missing persons?

Troy in Las Vegas said...

That was a really good band. I would love to see a Missing Persons reunion tour.

Every now and then when your life gets complicated and the weasels start closing in, the only cure is to load up on heinous chemicals and then drive like a bastard from Hollywood to Las Vegas ... with the music at top volume and at least a pint of ether.

-Hunter S. Thompson

Dedicated to the other side of Las Vegas, namely; the sprawling, mad, incoherent underpinnings of the world's favorite destination.

That, and the occasional ranting about nothing in particular.